No One Left to Tell (17 page)

Paige remembered what Clay had said that morning and some of her panic quieted. Mazzetti had investigated the murder of Clay’s former partner and was the cop he thought they might trust. ‘I always knew you’d have to tell someone. Okay. Do it.’

Something moved in his eyes. ‘I’ll call her on the way. Summon your hound.’

She hiccuped a surprised laugh. ‘Summon my hound?’

He shrugged. ‘I read too many detective stories, too.’

Tuesday, April 5, 6.15
P.M
.

Silas stepped back from the mirror, barely able to see his own reflection through the blood. His stomach was churning and it took every last ounce of control not to heave its contents all over the small bathroom with its Dora the Explorer wallpaper.

He hadn’t wanted to do this murder either. Jorge Delgado had heeded every last warning. Until today. He’d come back to the neighborhood.

Silas wasn’t sure why Delgado had come back. Maybe to make sure Sandoval was really dead. But Silas didn’t think so.
Were it me, I would have run when I heard Sandoval was dead
. And, were it him, Silas wouldn’t have been able to leave without holding his daughter one last time. He hoped Delgado had gotten that last hug.

Tina Delgado and the child hadn’t been home when he’d killed Jorge. He’d waited until they’d left the house before slipping in the back. He was so glad they’d gone. If they hadn’t . . . he didn’t want to think of it. Didn’t want to consider the choice he would have had to make. He couldn’t have killed Jorge and left his family alive to tell.

Because if they hadn’t left he would have made the choice. His child came first.

Silas looked down at his double gloved hands, latex covering the leather. The tip of his forefinger was red. The message in the mirror would be clear enough.

He slipped out the kitchen door to the alley. No one was out, no one was watching. It was raining again and everyone was inside. He pulled his hood up, covering his head and shrouding his face. No one would be able to identify him even if they did see him.

Pausing at the dumpster two blocks down, he tossed the gun he’d just used. The dumpster was the closest to the Muñoz family home. The gun was untraceable to him. He threw the latex gloves down the sewer. They’d wash out to the river by morning.

Silas drove away as if he hadn’t just ended the life of a man who had done nothing more than be in the wrong place sitting next to the wrong guy. At the worst of wrong times. Grimly he made a call on his work cell.

‘It’s done,’ Silas said.

‘Good to hear. And the wife and kid?’

‘They were gone by the time I got there.’

‘Hmm.’

Silas held his breath, hoping there would be no kill order on Tina Delgado and the child.
Please, no. I can’t
. But he knew that he could. If he had to.

‘I suppose that’s just as well. That would have been too messy.’

Silas let out a careful breath, lightheaded from relief. ‘Exactly.’

‘Did you search his room at the boarding house?’

‘Yes. I was there all day, waiting for him. He wasn’t supposed to be here.’

‘Then it’s a good thing he got interviewed. We might have missed him.’ The meaning of the silky words was clear –
you nearly failed again
. ‘I have another job.’

‘
No
,’ Silas gritted, then bit his tongue, regretting the outburst. ‘Who?’

‘An MMA fighter. Roscoe “Jesse” James. He’s got a fight tonight. You may want to follow him to the bar afterward. It’s where he goes to chill.’

‘What should I do with him?’

‘Kill him. And make sure he’s never found. You know, the usual.’

Silas knew. The shootings of Elena and Jorge were unique. Normally his jobs were much less public. And less frequent.

Silas didn’t ask why James had to die. He’d seen the video of the botched attack on Paige Holden while he’d waited in Delgado’s rented room. Her attacker had been big, muscled, and fought like a pro. A secret part of him was thrilled she’d gotten away.

That Silas had been tasked with the job of killing the man who’d botched her hit was also a message. He hadn’t been trusted with the parking garage assignment. Because he’d failed to kill her this morning when he’d had her in his sights.

When a kid with a camcorder also had her in his sights. Silas had watched that video while waiting for Delgado as well, troubled to see that the tape had been spliced. He needed to know what was contained in those missing minutes. He needed to know if the kid who’d taken the video had captured his face in any capacity. With all the facial recognition software, even the slightest glimpse might be enough to ID him.

His source in BPD said that everyone knew who’d taken the video – a kid named Logan Booker who lived in the unit above the Holden woman. But both Logan and Phin Radcliffe were refusing to give the cops the uncut version without a warrant.

Silas needed to see that uncut tape.
Just for my own peace of mind
. But first he had another job to do. Roscoe ‘Jesse’ James would learn the penalty of failure tonight.
And in teaching it, so will I
.

Chapter Seven

Tuesday, April 5, 6.20
P.M
.

G
rayson checked his rearview mirror yet again. There appeared to be no one following them, but it was hard to tell in the dark and in the rain that had started up again while they’d been at Lisa’s. The interior of his car was silent except for the swishing of his wiper blades and the panting of the dog taking up most of his back seat.

Paige had fallen asleep minutes into the drive, head tucked against her shoulder. But even in sleep her brows were knit. Grayson wanted to smooth the worry away.

He figured they’d achieve little from their trip. Delgado wouldn’t talk. Not unless he had one hell of a heavy conscience. In Grayson’s experience, people rarely confessed secrets they’d kept for years. Especially when protecting someone else.

They were a few miles away from Delgado’s house when Grayson’s cell buzzed in his pocket. He’d put in a call to Stevie half an hour ago, but got her voicemail. He tapped his hands-free earpiece. ‘This is Smith,’ he said softly, so he didn’t wake Paige.

‘I know.’

Grayson swallowed the sigh.
Here we go
. ‘Hi, Mom.’

‘Why are we whispering?’ his mother whispered loudly.

‘Because I’m in the car and my passenger is asleep.’

‘Your passenger is photogenic. That you are also goes without saying. Of course.’

‘Of course. So . . .’ He sighed. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Just remember that you asked,’ she said tartly. ‘When will I meet your passenger? She has good taste in clothes. I loved her red coat. Very chic.’

‘Until it got soaked with her blood,’ he said grimly.

‘There was that,’ his mother acknowledged. ‘Are you in danger, Grayson?’

‘No. But she is.’

‘Then you’ll keep her safe.’ It was a statement of fact. Of faith.

His mother had kept
him
safe, guarding their secrets, standing between him and those who would have literally torn him apart. A lioness protecting her cub, she fiercely defied anyone who had threatened him. ‘I learned from the best.’

‘You always know what to say,’ she murmured. ‘Your passenger is very lucky.’

He glanced back at the dog whose gaze never left Paige’s face.
He stands between me and the world
. That her guardian was a dog and not a person who loved her made him sad. Somehow he knew she’d never had a mother like his. ‘I think you’d like her.’

‘I plan on finding out. You promised me dinner tomorrow. I have reservations at Giuseppe’s. For three. Because I had intended to invite Carly.’

Grayson winced. He and Carly hadn’t been together in months. ‘About her . . .’

‘Except you hadn’t called me back as of lunch,’ his mother interrupted. ‘So I called her.’

His heart sank. ‘You called Carly?’

‘And wasn’t I surprised to learn that you and she had broken up? Months ago.’

‘I’m sorry, Mom.’

‘Were you ever going to tell me, son?’ He heard the hurt in her voice.

‘Of course I was. I just couldn’t find the right time.’ It sounded lame, even to him.

‘Why did you break up?’ she asked. ‘I thought things were getting serious.’

He was certain Carly had thought so. He shifted, uncomfortable. ‘Mom.’

‘Don’t “Mom” me,’ she said sharply. ‘I asked Carly myself.’

He sat up straighter, his neck growing warm. ‘You had no right.’

‘She said she left you because you were always working. That she didn’t want to play second fiddle to your job.’

‘It was true.’ It was his MO. Make them hate him for neglect before they discovered the truth. They always left, taking their dignity with them. It was the least he could do.

‘It’s been true for every woman you’ve ever known,’ she pushed.

‘Mom,’ he warned her. ‘This isn’t your business.’

‘You didn’t tell her, did you? Carly. You didn’t tell her.’

‘Of course I didn’t tell her,’ he said wearily.

‘She was a nice woman and you pushed her away, just like all the others.’

‘It was for the best.’

‘Bullshit,’ she snapped, startling him. ‘You’ve more than proven yourself not to be
him
. He can’t hurt you. Any woman who can’t accept who you are doesn’t deserve you, but you do them a disservice by not giving them a chance to make the right choice.’

‘I can’t tell them because I can’t risk them telling,’ he said quietly.

‘So what if they do? Nobody’s coming after you. Not any more.’

‘It has nothing to do with that.’ Even though it did.

‘You think people will think less of you. That they’ll think you’re like
him
, but nobody will. Nobody except yourself. How long will you go on paying for someone else’s sins?’

He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing at all.

Finally she sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t yell at you.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘No, it’s not. You needed to hear the words, but not the tone. I look back and wonder what might have happened if I’d never made us run. Never made you afraid.’

We’d be dead
, he thought. ‘I know you want what you think is best for me.’

‘What I want is for you to have a family. Which you’ll never allow yourself to have.’

‘I’m sorry, Mom,’ was all he could say.

‘Don’t be sorry. Just bring your Good Samaritan to meet me.’

The hairs on the back of his neck lifted in alarm. ‘Promise me you won’t tell her.’

‘I promise. Eight o’clock tomorrow night. Wear a tie.’

‘All right,’ he said, relaxing a little. But only a little. His mother was a woman on a thinly veiled mission – to have him settled sometime this decade. He’d spent a lifetime making her proud, proving he was a good man and not . . . his father. Not disappointing her. But in this, she would be disappointed.

He looked at Paige, guilt already eating at him. He wanted her. He’d wanted her from the minute he’d seen her jump from the path of a bullet-riddled minivan, then run back to check on the driver.

He should walk away, or better yet, send her running before she got any ideas of permanence. Of anything more than a few days or weeks. Months at the outside. Because if she wanted more, she’d end up hurt. Just like the others.

He’d never raised a hand to a woman. Ever. But he’d broken a few hearts, despite his best intentions. The thought of breaking Paige’s left him feeling physically ill.

At least his timing was good. He was in Elena’s neighborhood. ‘I have to go, Mom.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He tapped his earpiece to disconnect and slowed his car, focusing on reading the house numbers.

The Muñoz place was dark. Grayson assumed the Muñoz brothers were all together, grieving. He didn’t want to imagine losing his mother or any of the Carters. Much less to have lost a mother and sister in the same day. His heart ached for them.

His heart always ached for the families.

Unfortunately, by the time he entered the picture, there was nothing to be done but get justice for the victims. And protect future victims by putting murderers behind bars.

He thought he’d done the right thing by Crystal Jones. He thought he’d put a murdering bastard behind bars. He thought he was one step closer to balancing the scales. But it was never enough.

Never enough
. He glanced over at Paige, still asleep. She’d said that, too.
How many little boys will you save?
he’d asked.
Never enough
. He wondered what she’d meant. He intended to find out, but it would need to be later.

He stopped his car in front of Delgado’s row house. It, too, was dark. No one was home. He was tempted to leave, but Paige needed to make the attempt for her own peace of mind. He shook her shoulder lightly and she opened her eyes.

‘We’re there?’ she asked.

He’d brushed his thumb across her cheek before he could stop himself. ‘Yes.’

‘Then let’s do this.’ She was out of the car before he could assist her, telling Peabody to stay before closing the door. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,’ she said.

He followed her to the Delgados’ front door, glancing from side to side, wondering who was watching. Paranoia wasn’t fun. He glanced at the bandage peeping up from Paige’s collar. Except it wasn’t paranoia when someone was really trying to kill you.

She knocked on the door lightly. ‘Mrs Delgado? Are you home?’ she called.

When no one answered, Grayson knocked harder. Then both of them sucked in a startled breath when the door creaked open. It hadn’t been closed.

‘This feels bad,’ Paige whispered, then raised her voice to call again. ‘Mrs Delgado? Are you all right?’ She sniffed deeply. ‘Oh God. Do you smell that?’

‘Someone’s fired a gun. Recently.’ He took his cell from his pocket then cursed as Paige walked straight on inside, her hand on her holstered gun. ‘
Paige. Stop
.’